


The Stories They write

by Black_Eagle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Female Raphael (Supernatural), Healer Raphael, I suck at this, Sharing a Bed, Tattoos, Warriors of Heaven, stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 01:43:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15426291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Eagle/pseuds/Black_Eagle
Summary: Warriors of Heaven, they believe it’s their job to fill their body with their own stories. Or, in which Raphael wants to hear a story.





	The Stories They write

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Injures? Slight angst?
> 
> Square Filled: Tattoo
> 
> Written for @spngenrebingo.  And, note: I couldn’t really work my headcanon into the story, so I should say it here. Angels have human-like form upstairs, and they eat…  because it’s their plane of existence… Just roll with it people. I could make this into a multi-chapter thing, but I’m not sure yet. Adding more stories and going deeper into Michael’s character, also exploring Raphael’s relationship with Michael more.
> 
>  

 

 

Pairing: None. But you could say, Michael/Raphael if you look at it that way.

Word Count: 1.694

 

The Stories They Write

...

 

        Raphael never understood the warriors of Heaven. _Never_. They were too _reckless_ for their own good. Always got hurt in situations they could handle without any kind of injuries, just to make things happen faster. Which was stupid in Raphael’s opinion. But she had to admit, they were quite brave. And good looking, but that’s not the point, of course.

       They treated their bodies like temples, but their bodies were also their empty books, and it was their job to fill it.

       So, they filled them with battle scars. And _tattoos_.

       For a healer, like Raphael herself, tattoos were odd, and most wouldn’t want one on their body. They respected the warriors who marked their bodies, of course. It meant something more than just ink underneath their skin for them.

       It was the same with Michael. Heaven’s greatest warrior, the Archangel Michael, Raphael’s big brother, her general, and he had a lot of tattoos.

       Michael’s body was spectacular, years and years of training led him to the point where his muscle memory was _better_ than _his own mind_. And let it be said, Michael was pretty damn smart when it came to _the art_ of _war_.

       But not when it came to being an adult. You might think he is a mature person, and you’d be right when he was not home. But when he was?

       If he complained about how slow Raphael was working on his wounds one more time, she was going to choke him to death.

       “Michael, please-” she bit her tongue, keeping herself from yelling, “-be _patient_.” Yes, it was true that it was a slow progress, but she wasn’t just kissing the wounds better. She had to heal the healable ones, and show medical care to the ones that aren’t.

       “And, you, please be _quick_.”

       Raphael took a deep breath; “I’m _trying_ , brother.”

       When she was done, (“ _Finally_!” Michael had said) she just stared at Michael’s tattoos. He had so many of them, all for different reasons and different stories. Raphael didn’t know about all of them. After Michael made no move to get dressed and just laid face down to Raphael’s bed –she had to carry him there to help him, because his own bed was covered in blood by the time she arrived- she gently touched one of his small tattoos, it was an arrowhead, and it seemed like it was on fire. It wasn’t really surprising, considering Michael’s grace and his name-

       “Raph?” Her thoughts were interrupted by Michael’s gentle and tired voice. She didn’t stop caressing his tattoo; she knew Michael was okay with it.

       “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”  Michael’s eyes were closed now, and his voice didn’t hold any hostility.

       “I was just looking at your tattoos…” Michael made a humming sound and she kept going “I don’t know most of their stories.”

       “Ask away, sister,” Michael said, starting to rise on his elbows.

“Not now. You should rest.” She pushed his shoulder softly, so he wouldn’t get up. Michael had no energy to argue, and he did not want to either. He was tired, and he wanted to rest.

       “’kay. Later, then-” He rolled over to face his little sister, wondering if he is welcome in her bed or not. “-Hey, can I…”

“Of course brother. Suit yourself.”

       With that, she left the room but taking a mental note to ask him about the stories later.

**...**

**..**

**.**

       The morning after Michael slept in Raphael’s room, they woke up at about 10 AM. It was unusual, for them both, but Michael had got caught by the day before thanks to his injures, and Raphael went to bed very late. She cleaned up Michael’s room, then cleaned his weapons –she didn’t have to, Michael would do it after he was rested well enough, but she just felt like doing it- and after a shower, she laid down next to Michael, and slept with his _magnificent_ scent. He always smelled like _home_ to Raphael, it made her feel safe. There were still times that she went to him at night. Michael didn’t mind, he loved his little sister, and he thinks she will never be too old to sleep with him.

       Michael woke up first, leaving the bed with a yawn, careful to not wake Raphael up. Raphael woke up when he was still in the shower, and prepared breakfast for them both.

            As usual, Michael walked into the kitchen shirtless. He hated wearing a shirt when he had bandages on, for some reason. He poured himself a cup of coffee before sitting down to the counter. Raphael put a plate of what she prepared in front him and took one to herself. Looking around, she realized she forgot to get coffee for her own. Before she could get up, Michael passed her his own coffee, he knew that they both liked coffee with lots of sugar and cream,  they both put some cacao in it too. He got up and prepared himself another cup of coffee while Raphael replied his act with a soft and quiet “Thank you” and sipped her coffee. Michael sat back down and smiled at her before started eating.

       While they eat in silence –which, by the way, was also very unusual, because Michael was almost never quiet- Raphael had a chance to examine Michael’s tattoos better. She had always loved his tattoos, and now she wanted to know the stories behind them.

        After they were done with breakfast, Raphael finally said: “Can you tell me now?”  Michael narrowed his eyes, trying to remember what she is talking about. When he did, he answered with a nod and a simple “Sure.”

          Raphael insisted about going back to bed, so Michael could lie down. Michael should’ve known arguing with Raphael about his health was a _stupid_ idea, but it seemed like he never learned. (“But…” “I’m the Healer, so hush.”) 

          Michael did as he was told and went back to bed, but didn’t lie down so he could talk with Raphael; who gently and hesitantly touched his back, the same spot as yesterday. He knew what that was, an arrowhead over his spine. “That’s for my first kill.” He started. “It was when you were about 3, I mean, I got the tattoo later, but the story is from back then…”

\---->

          It started as a normal day in Heaven, Lucifer was with Father, –as usual- Raphael was playing peacefully in the Garden, and Michael was watching her quietly from afar; sharpening his weapons.

          The third born had the small wooden spear Michael gave her, she was running around and destroying “monsters” with her weapon. She had so much courage and strength within her, and Michael was near certain that she would be a great warrior someday. She had that inside her, that much obvious. But she also held so much love and mercy, and that made him think that she could choose not to be a soldier. Something as brave and strong as a fighter, but also soft and merciful. Maybe a Healer. Or a guardian.

<\----

          “Thinking about it, you’ve probably seen more blood than any warrior.” That made Raphael chuckle. “Probably.”

\---->

           Watching Raphael play had always made him smile and today was no different. But as time went by something in his guts clenched. It made him reach for his bow, which made no sense, his sword would be a better choice in a close combat, but he wasn’t thinking. He got up, ready to face whatever was coming on his way, but he was wrong. It wasn’t coming to him, it was coming for the fledgling.

His eyes widened and took an arrow from the bowl he was burning the metal to bless them. He didn’t bother to cool the fire; he just aimed, and let arrows loose. He didn’t miss, he never did, no, he had been training for this moment, and when the creature –Father had told them about these- fell to the ground, he quickly spread his wings and flew to Raphael.

The small child was watching him with horrified eyes, and she didn’t even move as Michael took her in his arms, taking her to a safe distance. Her eyes were dry, it seemed like she wanted to cry, but she wasn’t sure if it would be right or not.

<\----

           “I don’t remember any of this…” Raphael said thoughtfully.

“Well, you were really young back then. And you know what? You didn’t cry. You just asked if I could hug you for a while.” Michael laughed, nudging Raphael softly. Raphael laughed too, it seemed like she had always found Michael’s arms safe.

          Raphael’s hand wandered around Michael’s skin once more, before she decided on one. It was a sword-shaped cross with wings, which was quite strange because crosses never really mattered to angels. “What about this one?”

          “The cross? Well, that’s actually a sword as you’ve probably noticed, and it doesn’t have a story. It’s just a simple symbol of war. See, as Heaven, all our enemies come from down below. It’s why the sword’s sharp side points below.” Michael shrugged, it really was simple to him.

           “Why the wings?”

“Because it looks _cool_ , Raphael.”

           Raphael chuckled; she could hear the eye-roll in Michael’s voice. Her hands found their place on another tattoo over his heart, this one was one of the biggest, and it was a pair of sword clashing, and around them, there was a pair of broken and burnt wings, their bases were bloody like they were freshly cut. And above them, there was a halo, broken, but still shined. Raphael swallowed, for some reason she knew she shouldn’t ask because she felt like she knew what the answer would be. She took her hands off of him, then she heard Michael sigh.

           “Yes, sister…” He closed his eyes, and he could still hear the screams. “That one is for him.” He clenched his fists, taking deep breaths, pushing back the memories. “It’s for God’s lost Morningstar.” He touched the tattoo like it hurt him to have it. “It’s for my greatest mistake.”

 

        

**Author's Note:**

> So... Would you like more of this? Let me Know!


End file.
